Baba, The Black Sheep

Any time, any where in India, you will find a Baba, spreading spiritualty for a buck.

Submitted:Oct 21, 2009
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Baba, The Black Sheep

By

Subba Rao

No
parent names his son Baba. It is suffix to a given name in India,
particularly in the South, when a person attains some position,
spiritually speaking, and generally given to older people. This
is in total contrast to the word Bubba in the United States that
refers to men with gaudy, ungentlemanly, or coarse behavior,
particularly from southern states.

Practically, anybody can call himself Baba,
since the suffix Baba is a self-proclamation to Babaship. Among
Hindus, Brahmins known to have good knowledge on scriptures could
be good candidates for the title. But anybody can scale the
invincible barrier that surrounds and protect the Brahmins to
claim Babaship with self-proclamation. A Baba could be from any
caste among Hindus, or even a Muslim can be a Baba, as long as he
cultivates appropriate attire and learns some tricks to convince
people that it is to their own benefit to become followers or
believers. Self-proclamation to Babaship is almost an equal
opportunity (self) employment in India. Followers of a Baba can
change their allegiance from one to another, if they were for
some reason disappointed in their Baba. For example, if their
Baba were to be exposed as a fake. Few Baba stood the test of
time and retained their followers, so that they even trained and
left their heir apparent to run the show.

Nobody is against people calling themselves
Baba. Satyanarayana was a school dropout, one day he gave himself
the suffix Baba, and became Satyanarayana Baba. Then dropped
Satyanarayana altogether from his name and started calling
himself Baba and the others started to call him Baba to his
satisfaction. This was a clear-cut case of self-proclamation to
Babaship, since no body bestowed him with the title. People just
don't change their names for nothing. He spent years in reading
scriptures and practiced how to present the material eloquently
in public. He attracted small gatherings at his home and then at
the nearby temple where he became a resident speaker on various
religious topics. Like copper metal which transmits heat or
electric energy as fast as it absorbs it, a Baba has to learn
quickly and retain the subject matter to present
eloquently.

To
enhance the legitimacy of a Baba, the physical appearance plays
an important role. One should sport a beard (uncut preferred),
and long hair; also wear appropriate loose-fitting garb or loin
cloth in shades of yellow, orange, or red, representing the color
of purity of the sun at dawn or dusk to absorb and destroy sin
and sustain morality. Application of ash or pure limestone powder
to shoulders and forehead would symbolize purity and disinterest
in worldly comforts.

When
Juggernaut was thirteen years old, after school he took private
math lessons from his schoolteacher at his home. In that area, he
first encountered a man wandering around butt naked. People
called him Digambaram Baba (naked Baba). He was always naked,
except once in a while when he wrapped a rag around his waist. He
was always talking to himself in sign language while walking. On
a few occasions, Juggernaut found Dhigambaram Baba far away from
the street where his teacher lived. He walked slowly, non-stop
for hours, covering many streets. Some people, mostly women, walk
a few feet behind him, asking for solutions to their personal
problems. They followed the wandering Baba, for his response. To
walk behind a naked man in public is something that needs
courage, particularly for women. Perhaps, if someone were that
desperate, they would attempt anything.

Nobody knows Digambaram Baba's religion or
caste. Many believe that he was a Muslim; his followers were
mostly old people and Hindus. His body from head to toe never
seemed to receive an intentional wash, though his slow walks in
the rain did some unintentional cleansing. People believed that
Baba could foretell the future or answer any troubling question,
if he was in a mood to do so. Otherwise, he might wander miles
without responding to the queries. The followers carried some
'prasad' (sacred gift) such as a fruit for him. Juggernaut wished
to confront him one day when nobody was around and ask about his
own future. But this seemed impossible he could never walk behind
a naked man in public for miles, and also he had so many
questions in my mind, he was not sure with which one to begin
with. Juggernaut once mentioned about Dhigamram Baba to his
father. He said the Baba was just a beggar playing silent games
with people to get free food.

In
the early seventies, a Baba from North India came to the town on
an invitation from a local wealthy businessman. The Baba set up
his office in a small upstairs office in the downtown area. Rich
people consulted the Baba before venturing into any new business
or investments. This Baba, a kind of present-day financial
advisor or analyst, but used stars in the sky or read the palm of
the investor, and then expressed his opinion. Juggernaut's father
once sent him along with his rich cousin to Analyst Baba since
his cousin's investment in tractor business was sinking. The Baba
took a hard look at his cousin's blank face and rubbed his both
palms together to signal that his cousin's business would end up
in ashes and warned him to never venture into any new business.
Since then, the cousin failed in every business venture and ended
up as a full-time drunk. Now, this is the kind of inexpensive
Analyst Baba we need on Wall Street in place of high-priced
financial planners.

The
words Yogi and Baba are interchangeable, except Baba is generally
an older person whereas Yogi can be of any age. If the person
were a woman, the term would be Yogini. An older Yogini could be
referred to as Amma (Mother). A Bala Yogi (a kind of spiritual
protégé) was well known for living in self-imposed confinement
without any food for several years in a concrete bunker- like
structure on the banks of sacred River Godavari in the town of
Rajamundry in South India. . Once every year, on an auspicious
day according to Hindu calendar, Bala Yogi came out of his
confinement to give a rare appearance to hundreds of thousands of
his devotees. People who saw him from a distance described him as
a small delicate man (he was not a child anymore) with long
flowing gray hair almost touching his buttocks, he struggled and
threw fits as men carried him from the confinement. His rare
annual appearance was a big event in the region and nobody ever
tried to rationalize how anybody could live without food. His
devotees carried Prasad (gifts of food) to him on the day of
public appearance for inexplicable reasons since the Bala Yogi
don't care for food. When Juggernaut was a kid, his grandmother
visited one or two of the annual events of Bala Yogi's public
appearances. On her return, when Juggernaut made some childish
remarks of disbelief in him, she touched her cheeks with both
hands crossed, a sign language for forgiveness from
god.

One
of Juggernaut's cousins never passed in his first attempt any of
the tests from high school to law school. He repeated every final
examination sometimes three or four times to pass. He was good
with his hands though, always fixing his motor cycle, a British
make. Once he shifted the entire steering wheel of his father's
car (a Ford 'Prefect') from right to left-hand side (as in the
United States). When the police demanded that he should display
boldly "Left Hand Driven Vehicle" on the back of the car, he
stenciled the words in metallic paint neatly.

Once, a Baba stopped by Juggernaut's cousin
house. He was wearing traditional orange-color loose Baba garb;
he made a conical shaped knot with the tip dangling from his long
flowing hair at the top of his head, and his long beard was well
groomed. His orange colored loincloth, wooden sandals, and large
bead necklace dangling around his neck gave him dignified
appearance. Vibudhi (finely ground limestone powder) was applied
amply on his forehead and shoulders, a sign of disregard to
worldly things. He seemed well fed. He spoke in Hindi; a Northern
Indian language indicating that he was visiting South India.
After some chat about his powers as a Baba, he predicted that the
cousin would pass the test he took at Law School recently. The
cousin, notorious for failing each subject several times, took
Baba's words lightly. This infuriated the Baba so much so, he
started chanting few verses in 'Sanskrit' (an ancient Indian
language) while dancing in a circular motion. He claimed that he
took a life-long celibacy to concentrate his thoughts (which
otherwise could be distracted easily) to obtain the powers in
predicting future events. Then, to our total bewilderment, he
pushed his hand into his under clothing and pulled out a four
inch diameter copper ring that was pierced through the foreskin
of his penis, a kind of self-castration to make his penis
unusable. He said he was not an ordinary Baba but a true lifelong
Brahmachari (a person who commits lifelong-true celibacy in
pursuit of spirituality).

This
spectacle shocked everybody. The Baba collected a handsome
'dakshen' (monetary gift) and walked away in dignity, chanting
some more verses in Sanskrit. The test results came after few
days and the cousin failed as usual in all the subjects including
criminal psychology. What made Juggernaut sad was the unnecessary
hope the Baba created in cousin's mind. The whole episode was a
hoax. Perhaps the Baba repeated his trick again and again for his
livelihood and created false hope in the minds of vulnerable
people.

Subramanian never attended school on a regular
basis. He earned money scalping tickets at movies for money. His
accountant brother financed his education to some extent and then
eventually let his brother choose his way of living. Though
Subramanyam did not like school, he knew he needed some skills to
make living. So, he learned how to fix sewing machines and things
of that nature. Eventually, he landed a good job in the
sewing-machine manufacturing company. He married a girl who sang
Bajans (Hindu religious songs) like nobody else could. People
praised her voice and compared it to 'Kokila' a bird known for
its extraordinary singing voice. Subramanyam was always learning
new skills. This time, he learned how to play pillumgori or
Indian flute made from local hollow bamboo. He played flute while
his wife sang Bhajans at Puja (Hindu prayer) and other religious
gatherings. Subramanyam could not hold a job for any length of
time. His absenteeism from work due to drinking caused him to
lose his job several times. He drank Kallu, a local cheap
alcoholic drink brewed from Toddy Palm tree sap and got addicted
to it. Eventually, Subramanyam became permanently unemployed.
From singing Bhajans full time, his wife earned money to support
her family.

People paid very little for listening to
Bhajans. So Subramanyam came out with the idea of a total
makeover for his wife to change her to yogini or spiritual woman.
She wore the Indian garb 'Sari', in shades of color yellow,
orange, or red. She applied turmeric paste (made from
yellow-colored ground turmeric plant-roots) to her face and feet
to look yellow- a color of holiness for Hindus. A large round red
colored dot or tiluk, she placed at dead center of her forehead
enhanced her spiritual looks. She decorated her neck with a few
wooden bead necklaces and rubbed ashes abundantly on her arms.
This entire makeover gave Subramanyam's wife a true look of
yogini. She called herself yogini and so did her husband. The
entire community called her yogini from there
onwards.

Subramanayam made up the gigs and his yogini
wife performed them wonderfully. For example, at their home, they
placed a brass container called Hundi to collect money at the end
of the puja , and encouraged visitors to drop money in it with a
promise that it would be carried personally to a large temple a
few hundred miles away to give to god as dakshen. Since many
people could not afford to travel that far away, they chose to
drop money in the Hundi at yogini's house. When the collections
in the Houndi at their home started running dry, they started a
town-wide collection campaign, street by street. Yogini while
walking sang the Bhajans with the brass container in her hand.
Subramanyam held an umbrella over her head to protect her from
the sun or rain. They picked auspicious days and an appropriate
tiny-sized Hindu deity (made from clay, copper, or brass) to
carry with them on their road march. He promised that money
dropped in the brass container would go to the intended
deity.

Jatharas or religious annual processions
carrying an idol of a village goddess were common in many
villages in South India. In the procession, a few women,
invariably threw fits as if possessed and danced in frenzy from
drinking local brew and to music of heavy drumbeats. People
interpreted this as not a regular fit (medical seizure) but a
kind of religious fit or Punakam and the goddess was trying to
convey a message through the woman. While going through fits or
Punakam, the person spoke out loud of what would happen if her
demands such as a bag of rice, new clothes, or other goods were
not met. People splash cold water on the women in fits to calm
her down and then presented her with whatever they
had.

Subramanyam certainly might have gotten some cue
from village jatharas and trained his wife how to start throwing
fits or punakam in more a mild and respectable manner. For
example, at the end of puja, his wife yogini threw fits as if she
were in communication with God. While singing and dancing, she
made demands for groceries or clothes for her family, but nothing
fancy. She claimed that until her demands were met, the Puja they
had performed was unworthy. People calmed her down by sprinkling
water on her and gave some gifts. Some people stopped inviting
them to puja from fear of yogini throwing fits and demanding
gifts.

Somehow, Subramanyam and his yogini wife managed
their lives with two kids performing these gigs. In each town,
they lived not more than one or two years until they ran out of
believers. Only the relatives knew how the Subramanyams made
their living. Many relatives warned yogini about their way of
living, but yogini had no choice; she had to support her two
children and an unemployed husband addicted to toddy
liquor.

After several years, yogini along with her
children left her husband to live with her parents, at least
temporarily. During that time, Subramanayam died silently in his
sleep with his flute resting on his chest. It was sad to hear of
his death. He was always remembered for his flashing smile after
playing a few Indian tunes on his flute for the devotees of his
wife.

Unlike poor relatives of Juggernaut, Mr.
Ragahavan was a highly paid certified accountant for an American
fertilizer company. He had no need to earn extra cash by playing
Baba. He did performed weekly puja at his home and invited
friends and acquaintances. What was unusual with Mr. Raghavan was
that while performing puja, he sometimes got stiff and
motionless; not even his eyes blink for several minutes as if he
was possessed, then he became suddenly normal with a broad smile
as if he just returned from an unknown trip, spiritual in nature.
Some of his invitees carried pumpkins to his house as gifts on
puja day, since he used pumpkin as a means through which he
received messages from god. Though he didn't want to be called
Baba, people called him Pumpkin Baba. At the end of puja, some
attendees would ask questions about their future and Pumpkin
Baba, using a sword, would try to touch the pumpkin but for some
mysterious reasons, the pumpkin wouldn't stay put and slowly
moved away from the sword. This he interpreted as difficult times
ahead for the person in distress who asked the question. After a
few years, Mr. Raghavan left town overnight. Apparently, the
Fertilizer Company dismissed Mr. Raghavan for fraudulent
accounting practices. Just like his accounting trickery that took
years for the company to catch up, someone may come up with
explanation for Mr. Raghavan's pumpkin trick.

Mr.
Pandey lost his father and moved into his parents' large house
with spacious airy bedrooms. After a few months, the troubles
started. His children got seriously sick and he was overwhelmed
with financial problems. Everything was dandy for so long while
his father was alive and suddenly things went downhill for him.
He called a Baba to find out the reasons for their misfortune.
The Baba, after thorough inspection of the house just like a
building inspector, made calculations of his own according to
vaastu (ancient Hindu science based on orientation of rooms,
location of doors and windows, and other fixtures in relation to
the sun, the moon, and other celestial bodies), and then declared
that the house was not built according vaastu. He advised Mr.
Pandey to immediately vacate the section of the house he was
occupying and move to the other section (used as storage rooms).
The Baba cautioned Pandeys never to live in that first section
since it brought all the misfortunes to them.

The
section of the house Mr. Pandey moved into, a storage area did
not get natural breezes at all. Since the house was not
air-conditioned, like the houses in most towns, it was hot like
hell, particularly in summer at temperatures well above 115˚F.
And during the rainy season the humidity was well over 110
percent. It was a disaster for Pandey's family. In addition to
financial and health problems, now they were living in a
hellhole. What was worse, the large bed rooms with natural
breezes his parents occupied in the past were now used as storage
rooms collecting dust. During a visit to Pandey's home, sitting
in a room like an oven, Juggernaut asked him for more details for
moving in to the stuffy storage rooms. He said that vaastu was
bad on the other side according to the Baba, so they moved out.
"How about your parents who lived in that section of the house
for almost forty years without any problems?" asked
Juggernaut.

"It
was the accumulated bad luck of forty years, I am paying for it
now," said Pandey, clearing his eyebrows from pouring sweat.
Juggernaut was dumbfounded and left Pandey to sweat it
out.

The
real problems they faced were the sudden loss of income from
death of Pandey's father and nothing to do with vaastu or
anything to do with celestial influence on the inhabitants of the
house as reasoned by the vaastu Baba. The younger Pandey,
throughout his entire adult life, had no job and lived off his
parents' wealth. When the income dried up after his father's
death, the realities kicked in and the Vaastu became a scapegoat
for his own shortcomings.

Implementing vaastu became a cottage industry in
India since scores of houses were built every year. A Baba that
advises people based on vaastu was then in great demand. Baba
made calculations and worked with the contractor or the architect
to design the house according to vaastu before the house was
built, like a City or County Zoning Regulations except vaastu
code cannot be challenged in court. People were willing to pay a
hefty fee for Baba rather than suffer later the unforeseen
happenings. A slogan on a Vastu Baba storefront read: "Consult
Vaastu Now and Save Money Later." And another read: "Build your
home according to Vaastu to avoid expensive remodeling costs
later." When Juggernaut saw sign boards like that during his
recent visit to our town, it reminded him of the Global
Positioning System using Satellites (GPS) that scientists back in
the United States use in locating objects on earth. The vaastu
Baba in India used a kind of GPS without the aid of satellites to
design homes for the safety of its inhabitants - safety from bad
luck with no consequence to physical comfort or
safety.

The
resale value of existing homes depended upon if the homes were
built according to vaastu. A prospective home buyer would hire a
vaastu Baba prior to building inspector to walk through the house
to make sure whether the house was built according to the vaastu
or not. Compliance to vaastu rules was more important than the
quality and safety of the house construction. If the house failed
to meet vaastu, a Baba recommends cosmetic changes such as
installing a window or door with no practical use or real purpose
but just to comply with vaastu, to give peace of mind to the
occupants, and keep up the resale value of
existing-homes.

Years ago, while working as an instructor in
chemistry in a small town in Southern India, Juggernaut lived in
what was originally a single house but converted to a duplex by a
thin brick wall built right through the center of the house. The
house, on the outskirts of the town, was surrounded by tall palm
trees, scores of them, and the under brush served as a public
latrine for the people in the surrounding area who did not have
in-house plumbing, a luxury in those days. The house in which
Juggernaut lived did not have in-house plumbing either, but an
outhouse served the tenants. Juggernaut enjoyed living in one of
the duplexes until a retired District Superintendent of Police
(DSP) moved with his family into the vacant duplex.

After several days the DSP moved in, during the
middle of the night, a sudden shriek like laughter of a girl woke
Juggernaut up. It was a frightening long drawn-out laugh, he felt
like sitting in a horror movie with his eyes closed. She could be
the new neighbor's daughter laughing, perhaps she was mentally
ill. Juggernaut heard voices to calm her down.

To
use the outdoor latrine, Juggernaut had to walk past the deep-
water well that supplied water to the tenants. The water well was
not a bore-well, but a typical circular (at least six feet
diameter) well with a concrete or brick wall rising above ground
(four-feet) for safety. This kind of well was very common in
South India, used for centuries for water supply to individual
homes or communities. Using a small steel bucket attached to a
rope, water is drawn from the well since the water table is
shallow (around ten feet) in the area.

Late
at night, Juggernaut avoided the use of the latrine, particularly
during rain. Darkness, shadows and the sounds from the movement
of the palm trees scared him easily. If he couldn't hold it until
the morning, he did go to the latrine late at nights. One night,
Juggernaut opened the back door and walked toward the latrine
with flashlight in hand. A girl was trying a balancing act of
walking on six-inch thick wall of the water well. Juggernaut
heart stopped ticking and froze. The inclination to relieve
himself stopped abruptly from the sudden fear factor. He ran to
the front of the house and knocked on the DSP's door and told him
that his daughter was in danger of falling into the well in the
backyard. The next day, the DSP did not say anything, not a word,
about the incident. It was like a secret they want to kept to
themselves about their daughter's mental illness, if that were
the reason for her behavior.

A
few months passed and Juggernaut got used to the occasional
shriek-like laughs. One day while sitting on his verandah
correcting some of his students' papers, a constable visiting his
old boss (DSP) came by, asking for a cigarette. And while smoking
in a matter-of- fact way, he said that DSP's eldest daughter
suffered from schizophrenia and her doctor husband lived in
Ireland. It was sad to hear the retired DSP's family story from
his loyal constable.

One
night, Juggernaut heard a commotion in DSP's house at almost mid
night. The DSP knocked at Juggernaut's front door and asked if he
could visit his duplex to participate in a Puja (Hindu religious
prayer). In a sleepy mood, Juggernaut swaggered into his house
and in total surprise recognized (from pictures) Amma, or
spiritual woman, in person sitting on a chair surrounded by few
devotees. Amma was famous in that region for her spiritual
healing of people with all kinds of aliments. She has thousands
of devotees; her place of living and prayer (Asram) was a few
hundred miles from the town. What was astonishing was for her to
visit her devotee in the middle of the night, unannounced. The
DSP and his family were flabbergasted by her visit and were
topsy- turvy to serve her and her entourage that came in several
cars. That was the first time, Juggernaut was invited into DSP's
house. The girl who stood on the deep water well some days ago
looked pale, very thin, and almost expressionless. The DSP's
family conducted prayers along with Amma's entourage. At the end
of puja every devotee prostrated in front of Amma's feet in
humility as a symbol of respect to her. Juggernaut was little bit
hesitant at the beginning. Realizing this, Amma in a motherly
tone made him do it anyway. The DSP was a dedicated devotee of
Amma and the reason he came to this town after his retirement was
to live in this area close by Amma's ashram for blessings and
more importantly for spiritual treatment for his schizophrenic
daughter. During the midnight hours, in a glittering pure silk
sari, and pure gold, diamond, ruby, and emerald jewelry, Amma
really looked like a million-dollar woman. Her entourage was more
like her security detail than her devotees. As quickly as she
appeared, she left after the Puja, like the visit of a
high-ranking politician to her home constituency.

After six or eight months, the DSP and family
packed up and left. The constable, who helped them pack, told me
that they decided to go to their native town hundreds of miles
away. Apparently, the DSP was disappointed with Amma's spiritual
treatment of his daughter, or lack of it.

After several years, Juggernaut came to know
that Amma suffered a heart attack and later died. In fact one of
Juggernaut's uncles, a cardiologist, had treated her. Amma, while
providing spiritual healing to her believers received handsome
dakhen (money rewards) and used it in part to pay for her own
high-tech heart treatment. It is a kind of spiritual recycling of
money and services that benefited nobody in the end, neither the
provider nor the receiver. Her ashram was in deep debts even
before she died, since she spent a lot of money on expensive
jewelry and pure silk saris. The ashram was shut down after her
death and the debtors confiscated the ashram and all her
belongings, including a fleet of her cars.

Juggernaut's father-in-law, a retired Chief
Engineer a high-ranking civil servant was a fine gentleman and
highly hospitable. One day while Juggernaut visiting his
father-in-law, a Baba with five of his disciples passing in front
of the house, stopped, and entered hesitantly the front yard. The
father-in-law got up from his chair and walked into the yard and
respectably made a namaskar or salutation to the Baba. Baba in
return raised his right hand up, palm stretching out towards the
sky, and then lowered it slowly and let it stay in a horizontal
position for a few seconds. The father-in-law with his two sons
invited the Baba and his five disciples into the home with great
humility. Juggernaut being the only non-believer kept his
feelings to himself.

After a brief chat, Baba and his gang sang few
Hindu prayer songs to the delight of all the family members.
Juggernaut's brother-in-law rushed to a nearby market to fetch
banana leaves and fruits, betel leaves and nuts, and other
knick-knacks as a donation to Baba. The mother-in-law, a gracious
woman, quickly prepared steamed rice, dahl (mashed-up boiled
peas), and vegetable curry. On large banana leaves placed on the
tiled floor in the family room, food was served to Baba and his
disciples, who all squatted on the floor. Using steamed rice,
like civil engineers they built small dikes around each dish to
prevent food from running of the Banana leaf. Using their
fingers, they mixed the steamed rice with dahl, curry, and
yogurt, in that proper order to make slurry and pushed it into
their mouths with suckling noises. They ate as if they were all
in some kind of eating competition, under the graceful and
watchful eyes of the father-in-law. After completing the meal,
they made a little silent ritual, perhaps praying for a re-visit.
They had a tough time getting up from their squatting position on
the floor, so each person had to help each other get on their
feet.

On
the front verandah, all the family members received some kind of
blessings from every disciple of Baba. In return, the graceful
father-in-law gave them traditional dakhen, consisting of a few
coins, fruits, and betel leaves and nuts. The Baba appeared
disappointed, perhaps expected brand new pure silk clothes as
dakhen as well, but that was not in the mind of the
father-in-law. For the most part, Juggernaut was a silent
observer during that event. He saw the satisfaction in the eyes
of his in-laws as they considered it noble cause by feeding six
people and perhaps in return obtained some moksha or salvation.
For Juggernaut, who tries to rationalize every event, it was hard
to see his mother-in-law feverishly at work making a meal for
these people, whose background was unknown except for their Baba
outfits and talent in chanting a few religious prayers. Living
away from India for so long may be one of the reasons; Juggernaut
may look at events of this kind from a totally different
angle.

Juggernaut's younger brother-in-law, an engineer
by profession, gave him a ride on his motorbike the next day to a
nearby shopping mall. There he saw the gang of six walking
briskly in their orange-colored garb, perhaps searching for the
next sumptuous free meal. Where had they slept last night?
Perhaps in some temple yard or even at a private home where some
kind people were gracious enough to provide sleeping facilities.
Juggernaut brought the attention of his brother-in-law riding the
bike to the gang of six as they passed them. He smiled at
Juggernaut, knowing his mind and what he was going to
say.

Corporate Baba of the United States was
equivalent to Indian Baba in many ways, except he wears a jacket
and tie instead of orange-colored Baba garb. According to Hindu
mythology, Hindu gods reincarnate once every 1000 years. In
contrast, to attain corporate Babaship in the United States, one
had to implement the sixty/forty and six-year reincarnation
strategy. The sixty/forty rule means, sixty percent of time on
the job was spent on company projects and forty percent on
networking to broaden future contacts and job opportunities. A
six-year cycle of reincarnation meant jumping from one employer
to another at least once every six years. The first three years
on the new job was to find faults with the predecessors's work
and the remaining three years to spend lot of company money on
outside consultant buddies. At the end of six years, a new cycle
of reincarnation began at a new place of employment. A total of
four to five reincarnations would complete anybody's corporate
career with fat 401-K and other retirement benefits, and with
lucrative stock options. Unless an employee rigorously
implemented the corporate Babaship, the title of corporate V.P
would not be bestowed.

The
title Baba is comparable to Vice President, President, or any
other titles at a corporation. There is no legitimacy to these
titles such as doctor, professor, or judge. The corporate Baba in
a jacket and tie, and the traditional Baba in the typical garb
are spin-doctors. They twist and turn the information constantly
to make it appealing.